Chapter 1: Six Months in Flames
The blue silk gown was still smoking when my mother screamed about the price of my sister’s handbag.
“That bag cost twenty thousand dollars!””
Vanessa said it like someone had died. Behind her, the rectangular fire pit crackled beneath the afternoon sun, and my six months of work lay in ashes beside a scorched designer purse.
I stood barefoot on the upscale backyard patio, gripping the sleeves of my brown top so tightly that my fingers had gone numb.
My name is Nia Carter. I was eighteen years old, and I had just watched my sister destroy the one thing I had spent half a year saving for.
Not because she hated the dress.
Because she hated that it was mine.
“Dad, please,” Brielle whispered.
My nineteen-year-old sister stood several feet away from the fire pit, her sleek black hair falling perfectly over the shoulders of her fitted black outfit. Her eyes were wet, but she wasn't looking at me.
She was looking at our father.
Arthur Carter stood beside the sliding glass doors in a navy polo and beige trousers. His salt-and-pepper goatee tightened as he raised his phone toward my mother.
“And she bought it with my card,” he said evenly.
“Without asking.””
Vanessa's mouth fell open.
“What are you talking about, Arthur? This is not the time to start embarrassing your daughter!””
“Which daughter?”” he asked.
The question landed harder than a shout.
Brielle lowered her eyes.
“I was going to tell you,” she murmured.
Arthur studied her for a long moment.
“When?””
She swallowed.
“Dad, I made a mistake.””
“No.”” He glanced at the fire.
“You made several decisions. Let's start with the first one.””
My mother stepped between them, her burgundy blouse catching the sunlight.
“Arthur, she's nineteen. Young people make mistakes. We can replace a dress.””
I looked at her.
“Can we replace six months?””
Vanessa turned toward me as if she had only just remembered I was standing there.
“Nia, don't make this bigger than it is.””
I almost laughed.
The gown had been my biggest secret for six months. I had worked evenings at a neighborhood bakery, taken weekend shifts at a pharmacy, and spent countless nights stitching loose seams on customers' clothing for extra money.
Every dollar had gone into a separate savings account.
I had wanted to wear that gown to the senior arts scholarship gala where I would present my portfolio. It was a deep midnight blue, with delicate silver embroidery around the waist and a flowing skirt that moved like water.
I had found the designer during a late-night search and ordered the gown after weeks of debating whether I could afford it.
The package had arrived three days ago.
I had cried when I opened it.
Not because it was expensive.
Because, for once, I had bought something beautiful without asking anyone to approve of me first.
Brielle had found it hanging in my bedroom that morning.
She had touched the silk and asked where I got the money.
I told her the truth.
She smiled and said, “That's cute, Nia. You finally have something worth showing off.””
I should have known.
Now the silver embroidery had curled into black threads. The bodice was split, and one sleeve had melted into a stiff, dark fold.
I took a step toward the fire pit.
Arthur moved gently in front of me.
“Don't touch it, sweetheart. The fabric is still hot.””
“It's all I have left of it,” I whispered.
His face changed.
For the first time that afternoon, his controlled anger gave way to something more painful.
He looked at the ruined gown, then at my hands trembling against my sleeves.
“How much did you spend?”” he asked.
I hesitated.
“Four thousand eight hundred dollars.””
My mother's eyebrows rose.
“For a dress?””
“No,” I replied.
“For six months of my life.””
“Watch your tone,” Vanessa snapped.
Arthur turned toward her.
“She's allowed to have one.””
The silence that followed was so complete that I could hear the soft hiss of the scorched handbag settling against the fire pit's stone edge.
Brielle wiped her cheeks.
“I didn't think she'd react like this.””
I stared at her.
“You burned my dress.””
“I was angry!””
“About what?””
She opened her mouth, then shut it again.
Arthur lowered his phone.
“Tell us, Brielle.””
She glanced at Vanessa.
My mother immediately folded her arms.
“Arthur, this is becoming ridiculous. Brielle was upset, Nia was being difficult, and something unfortunate happened. We don't need to turn the backyard into a courtroom.””
“Something unfortunate?”” I repeated.
Vanessa pointed toward the house.
“Go upstairs, Nia. We'll discuss this when you've calmed down.””
I didn't move.
For eighteen years, I had obeyed that sentence.
Go upstairs.
Stop arguing.
Be the bigger person.
Let your sister have it.
Brielle got the bigger bedroom because she needed the space. Brielle got the newer phone because she needed it for college. Brielle got the family car because my parents worried about her driving at night.
Whenever I questioned the imbalance, Vanessa called me ungrateful.
And whenever I stayed quiet, she called me mature.
I looked at Arthur.
“Dad, I need you to understand something.””
He nodded once.
“Tell me.””
“I didn't buy that dress to make Brielle jealous. I bought it because I wanted one night where I didn't have to feel like the extra person in my own family.””
Brielle's face crumpled.
“That's not fair.””
“Neither was watching you light a match.””
“I didn't know it would burn so quickly!””
Arthur stared at her.
“You knew what you were setting on fire.””
Brielle looked away.
My mother rushed to her defense.
“She didn't mean to ruin Nia's entire future!””
“My future?”” I asked.
Vanessa pressed her lips together.
Arthur's gaze sharpened.
“What future are you talking about?””
For a second, my mother looked frightened.
Then she recovered.
“Nothing. I'm saying this dress isn't worth destroying the family over.””
Arthur didn't answer her.
He looked down at his phone, tapped the screen, and began scrolling through something.
“Brielle,” he said, “did you use my card to purchase anything else?””
Her shoulders stiffened.
“No.””
He lifted his eyes.
“Look at me when you answer.””
She slowly raised her head.
“I only bought a few things.””
“How many?””
“I don't know.””
“Then we'll find out.””
Vanessa stepped closer.
“Arthur, you cannot possibly be serious. You're going to interrogate your own child over shopping?””
“I'm asking why thousands of dollars disappeared from my account.””
Brielle's tears began falling faster.
“I said I was sorry!””
I looked at the fire again.
The last recognizable piece of blue silk had collapsed into itself.
My throat burned, but I refused to cry in front of them.
Not because I wasn't devastated.
Because I had spent too many years crying alone in rooms where nobody came to check on me.
Arthur slipped his phone into his pocket and held out his hand.
“Come inside, Nia.””
I shook my head.
“Not yet.””
He followed my gaze toward the fire pit.
“Okay,” he said quietly.
“We can stand here a little longer.””
It was such a small thing.
But my father had just asked me what I wanted, and then allowed me to have it.
For a few seconds, the backyard felt different.
Then a sharp notification sounded from Arthur's phone.
He looked at the screen.
The softness disappeared from his face.
“Brielle,” he said, “why is there a delivery confirmation for a thirty-two-thousand-dollar jewelry purchase on my account?””
Brielle went completely still.
May you like
My mother stopped breathing for a moment.
And suddenly, the burned dress wasn't the only thing in our backyard that had caught fire.
